


The Boy Who Waited

by deusreks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, aliens and shorts, feelings and kisses and a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5217176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deusreks/pseuds/deusreks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is not about Iwaizumi Hajime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy Who Waited

**DAY ONE**

The bus ride from the airport was a bumpy one. Aside from Iwaizumi Hajime, a high school senior on his summer visit to the Island where his grandparents lived, there were only five more people. In front of him was a mother, her hair short and stuck to her sweaty nape, and her child, a boy in a striped shirt. The boy was standing on his seat, facing Iwaizumi and making all kinds of faces at him. He stuck his tongue out, pulled the skin under his eyes, tugged at his ears… It took all 17 years of self-discipline for Iwaizumi not to return the gestures – and he _did_ hold out. For a while.

It was just typical of his luck that the moment he stuck his tongue out, the boy’s mother would get up and turn around to leave the bus.

“Shame on you,” she swore, shook her head disapprovingly and led her child out by the hand. The boy didn’t miss an opportunity to stick his tongue out one more time. Iwaizumi hid his face in his palms and remained like that, in his shame, until his station was called.

The station wasn’t a _station_ per se; not the kind Iwaizumi was used to in the city, at least. It was a single wooden bench, and a sign in the middle of the woods, along the path that diverged – one path led further down the road and the other into the village. Iwaizumi dragged his suitcase, leaving a trail of dust and dried mud after him.  

The sun was high in the sky, the heat unbearable, the witness of it Iwaizumi’s t-shirt sticking to his chest and back. Nobody was outside but him. He walked past countless houses snuggled close together, their blinds closed. It was like walking down a deserted city during a zombie apocalypse.

Iwaizumi’s destination was through the village and up the narrow path that led to a secluded house near a cliff. He saw it the moment he stepped out of the forest of houses. The path was well-trampled and easy to follow. He hurried his step, feeling the slightest hints of dehydration in his throat.

He approached the house and absorbed the breathtaking view of the sea unfolding before him, the shades of gorgeous blues and the smell of salt. He knocked on the doors. He waited for a minute, heard a rustle and a muffled ‘ _Coming_ ’. Then the door slid open.

Iwaizumi’s grandma, Aiko, was a scrawny woman with eyes warmer than summer. Her black hair was tied in a bun on the top of her head, here and there dappled with grey hairs. When her eyes set on Iwaizumi, the smile on her lips revealed wrinkles under her eyes.

“Hajime,” she said. “My, how you’ve grown.”

“Grandma,” Iwaizumi said and fell into her open arms. She held him by the shoulders and looked him up and down. It had been years, after all, since Iwaizumi had come to the island, and back then he was a snotty-nosed kid with a bug net tossed over his shoulders and who spent more time in the forest behind the house than inside it.

“You must be thirsty, come in,” Aiko said and stepped away for Iwaizumi to enter.

With the blinds partially closed throughout the house, the interior was enveloped in light brown wood, green of the well-watered plants and red decorations. In the distance, Iwaizumi heard the soft hum of a fan. He left his suitcase by the entrance, where he had discarded his sneakers, and followed his grandma into the kitchen.

Isamu, his grandfather, was sprawled on the floor in front of the TV, a cup of green tea next to the arm that was supporting his balding head.

“Hi grandpa,” said Iwaizumi. Isamu gave him a crooked-toothed smile.

“You grew up well, son,” Isamu said. Then he looked at Aiko. “Told you he’d be big like his father.”

Aiko shook her head as if disappointed. “I was hoping he’d stay small.”

Iwaizumi flushed.

“You owe me a back massage,” said Isamu and flashed another smile. Aiko dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Iwaizumi followed her to their kitchenette to pour himself a glass of cold water. The liquid was cold against his burning, dry throat. He chugged the whole glass down in one gulp. Aiko rubbed his back as he did so as if she worried he might choke.

“We have prepared a room for you,” she said. “It was your father’s. We’ve been using it for storage since he’d moved out. I would’ve cleaned it more sufficiently if you hadn’t arrived on such short notice.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll only be staying for a week,” Iwaizumi said. That’s how long it would take to have their apartment in the city renovated.

Aiko took him to the room at the end of the hallway. It was a small, square room filled to the brim with boxes, gardening tools and scattered old books. The room smelled like time and history and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile when he saw a hole in the wall that fit the shape of a ball. He imagined his father with his legs on the wall as he threw a ball at the same spot until he ruined it. A patch of light came through partially raised blinds; an attempt to air the room. Behind the labyrinth of boxes was a futon, a nightstand and a small wall-closet.

“It’s perfect,” Iwaizumi said.

Aiko smiled at him and patted his back. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be in the living room massaging your grandpa or else he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Iwaizumi watched her walk out of the room and close the door behind her. He put his suitcase down and opened it. His stomach wasn’t peckish; his appetite had a tendency to bail on him during summer when the heat was unbearable and all he could think of was cold water.

He took his iPod out of the suitcase and pushed the suitcase next to the bed. He didn’t want to unpack his clothes considering he wouldn’t be staying long. He opened the blindfolds completely and left the room.

His first stop was the kitchen.

“Grandma, I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back soon,” Iwaizumi said.

“Take care,” Aiko raised her voice.

Iwaizumi was halfway through tying his sneakers, sitting on the floor in the hallway, when the front doors of the house opened and a boy tumbled in.

“Grandma!” The boy called in a singsong voice before he even stepped with both feet into the house. Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows at him and tried to blink away this showy hallucination.

The boy was wearing shorts the color of his almond curls and wide, curious eyes. He had the most defiant, pert nose atop a pouty little mouth. His cheeks were flushed pink from the heat. He carried himself easily, like a breeze, yet there was an air of mischief about him. Iwaizumi’s eyes fell on his shirt – black with a print of an extraterrestrial holding up a peace sign.

 _A squirrel in an alien shirt_ , Iwaizumi thought.

Iwaizumi ignored him as the boy ignored him as well. Aiko peeked from the kitchen’s threshold.  

“Tooru,” Aiko said. “I have your aunt’s order here.” Aiko disappeared again and the boy, while he waited, hummed to himself and bounced from the tips of his toes to his heels. Iwaizumi kept low and waited patiently; the boy was blocking his way out.

Aiko returned with a package in her hands; a box labelled ‘sea urchins’. “They’re from this morning,” Aiko said. “I know she likes them fresh.”

“Thank you,” said the boy. He took the box in his hands and rummaged through his pockets before he produced a few bills.

Aiko took the money and stored them in the pocket of her skirt. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “Have you met my grandson?”

At last, the boy’s gaze fell on Iwaizumi. Cold sweat suffused him. He met the boy’s gaze head-on, returning the arrogance in kind.

“Oikawa Tooru,” said the boy. Oikawa Tooru. He had no free hands to offer for a handshake.

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Iwaizumi said.

Aiko seemed oblivious. “I’ll leave you boys to talk.” She left midst the rising atmosphere of animosity.

Iwaizumi wasn’t sure why he felt like the boy was challenging him; he didn’t come here to pick fights with locals. And yet, Iwaizumi felt like he was under careful scrutiny and if he made as much as one wrong move, he would be dismissed.

The boy’s—Oikawa’s eyes trailed across Iwaizumi’s body, curve by curve, and once he’d sated of looking, he said, “You’re kinda buff.”

Oikawa’s tone has changed from singsong to implacable. Iwaizumi shrugged, pretending indifference.

“Want to work part-time for me?” Oikawa asked.

Iwaizumi held himself in place in spite of the unexpected proposal. “Will you pay me?”

“Only with my company,” Oikawa smiled and Iwaizumi has seen hundreds like that before. All fake; but none as refined and practiced as Oikawa’s.

Iwaizumi, slowly, deliberately, checked Oikawa out from head to toes. He dragged his eyes lazily over Oikawa’s muscled calves, thighs, his long, slender arms and torso and finally his face.

“It’s not much, but okay,” said Iwaizumi.

The agitated twist of Oikawa’s lip was awarding enough. He tilted his chin up as if he hadn’t expected to be refused in the first place; as if refusal was not a word in his vocabulary.  

“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning,” Oikawa said and slipped out of the house with pompous grace.

Iwaizumi didn’t feel like going out for a walk anymore.

 

**DAY TWO**

The only thing that stopped Iwaizumi from screaming the moment he opened his eyes was a fragile net that kept his pride safely pinned to his throat.

Oikawa’s eyes were boring into Iwaizumi’s like an indoor sun.

“First you are hateful _to_ my face and now you’re _in_ my face,” Iwaizumi said, drowsily, as he tried to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes all while trying to act half as unfazed as he pretended to be.

Oikawa smiled. “Don’t take it personally. Yesterday I was just testing if you were brave enough not to cower underneath ‘ _Oikawa’s daunting laser beam._ ’”

Iwaizumi was unable to comprehend the waterfall of ridiculous words leaving Oikawa’s mouth.

“You’re a _squirrel_ ,” Iwaizumi said. “I’m a panther. I will eat you.”

“Are you flirting with me, _Iwaizumi Hajime_?” Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows as he made himself comfortable on Iwaizumi’s nightstand.  

“Don’t say my name like that,” Iwaizumi said; there was a foul taste in his mouth that wasn’t entirely the fault of his morning breath.

“ _Iwa-chan_ , then?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes were wide-open. “That’s even—“

“Come, your grandma made us breakfast,” Oikawa interrupted and offered his hand.

Iwaizumi groaned and pushed it away. Oikawa shrugged and pranced out of the room in a pair of shorts with a yellow alien pattern. Iwaizumi pulled out a clean, striped sleeveless shirt and breezy shorts and followed after the cry of his stomach – straight into kitchen.

Aiko had left a feast on the table: steamed rice, miso soup and grilled fish. Iwaizumi rubbed his belly as he sat down at the table where Oikawa had already prepared to dig in by excitedly pressing his chopsticks together.

“Where is everyone?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Fishing. You know, oysters, sea urchins, _fish_ ,” Oikawa said. “It’s kind of family business of theirs. _Yours_.”

“How do _you_ know that?”

“I pay attention,” Oikawa said matter-of-factly between munching. “Hurry up, we have work today.”

Iwaizumi ate slowly just to spite Oikawa.

Once fully sated, they washed the dishes together. Iwaizumi thought Oikawa would complain at the prospect of having to clean up after himself but he rinsed with no complaining but lots of mild humming.

After that, it was the heat. The sun had only begun its journey through the sky but it didn’t let up on intensity – and it was only going to get worse. The streets weren’t as deserted as yesterday so Iwaizumi had some awkward nodding and ‘ _hellos_ ’ to do. Oikawa seemed to be well-known around the village, everybody had a smile to offer to him.

“Is your house far?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Just a little further,” Oikawa replied.

Oikawa’s house was much like his own; cosy and brown except Oikawa’s was surrounded by little to no greenery. Not everyone had Aiko’s proficiency for gardening.

“Are your parents at home?” Iwaizumi asked as he trailed behind Oikawa. They were climbing upstairs.

“Yes,” Oikawa said. “At their home in Tokyo.”

Iwaizumi quirked his eyebrow. “You don’t seem like the self-sufficient type.”

“I live with my aunt,” Oikawa informed, curtly.

“Is your _aunt_ home, then?”

“Yes,” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi couldn’t see Oikawa’s face so he focused on the coat of sweat on the nape of his neck. “At her second home in the city.”

“So, you live alone?”

“She comes home every few day to check on me. And stays over during the weekends.”

By the time they’d reached the top of the stairs, Iwaizumi was less exhausted from walking and climbing than talking to Oikawa.

Oikawa stopped in front of the doors plastered top to bottom with various alien posters; the most eye-catching was a ‘ _Beware! Area 51_ ’ poster that was as intimidating as a flock of butterflies. By the time Oikawa had opened the doors, Iwaizumi had half-expected he would find himself walking into a space shuttle.

And yet. Oikawa’s room was surprisingly plain with but bare necessities; a neatly made bed, a desk scattered with sketches of stars but with well-ordered textbooks, a closet and a couple of boxes. And posters, of course. Mingling between posters were various awards for sports or academic achievement. Iwaizumi was momentarily impressed but he hid this with a frown.

When he turned to Oikawa, he was watching him.

“Disappointed?” Oikawa asked.

“Surprised,” Iwaizumi said.

“All things in moderation,” Oikawa said and picked up one of the boxes. He passed it to Iwaizumi who hadn’t expected the box to be so heavy. His arms dropped but he managed to strengthen his grip before the box hit the ground.

“Careful,” Oikawa said as he picked up another box and set it on top of the box Iwaizumi was holding. “Is that too much?”

Iwaizumi strained to answer. “I’m good.” The top box wasn’t as heavy as the bottom one. He adjusted his grip.

Oikawa picked up one box for himself and then walked past Iwaizumi out of the room. “Follow me,” he said.

They were out of Oikawa’s house and on the path towards Iwaizumi’s house. Iwaizumi was curious about their destination but not curious enough to engage in another conversation with Oikawa. He quietly followed after Oikawa and watched his step. Near Iwaizumi’s house, Oikawa turned left into the forest. The traces of a path walked were in the ground but they were barely visible yet Oikawa followed them as if he knew the way by heart.

The forest around them was dense and the shade it provided was welcome. The only sound was the soft padding of their footsteps and the welcome, gentle breeze that rustled the branches above them. Iwaizumi felt a sliver of regret when the forest opened up to a clearing surrounded by rocks; the rocks were covered with greenery.

Halfway down the clearing, Oikawa put the box carefully on the ground. “Put yours down too,” he ordered.

Iwaizumi did as he was told without second-guessing Oikawa’s intentions; his arms were aching, sore.

Oikawa waited until he was sure the things in Iwaizumi’s hands were safely on the ground before he ran up to a small patch of ground that was about half as high as Iwaizumi. He climbed on top and faced Iwaizumi, his forefinger rudely pointing down. “Before I let you in my space station, you must pass a trust fall!”

“ _What_?” Iwaizumi said.

“First, you will catch me and then I will catch you,” Oikawa continued, undisturbed.

“Forget it. _First_ of all—“

Iwaizumi didn’t have time to finish. Oikawa spun around on his heels, spread his long arms as if he was about to fly off, and let himself fall down. Iwaizumi moved before he could think. He rushed forward and caught Oikawa by his armpits. The skin on Iwaizumi’s upper arms stung where Oikawa, and all his weight, scrapped him.

Oikawa looked up as Iwaizumi held him. He was beaming, the bastard. He held up a peace sign and said: “You pass.”

“And _you_ are insane,” Iwaizumi retorted but the same adrenaline rush that fueled Oikawa’s smile now ran through Iwaizumi’s veins. He pretended to drop Oikawa just an inch, for revenge, and Oikawa yelped.

“Look who’s talking!” Oikawa complained as he set himself free of Iwaizumi’s grasp. “Now you.”

Iwaizumi’s shoulders tensed. “No way.”

Oikawa pouted. “ _C’mon_.”

“No,” Iwaizumi held his ground. It didn’t escape him how unfairly adorable Oikawa looked with that little pout of his. “I’ll take a rain check.”

“Alright, I’ll let you off with that,” Oikawa concluded. “For now.”

They picked up the boxes again; Oikawa crossed the clearing and slipped between trees and they found themselves in front of a derelict shack. The shack stood adjacent to one of the surrounding rock cliffs, comfortable in shade.

“Welcome to my space station,” Oikawa announced, proudly.

Windows were broken, doors crooked, the roof full of holes and the wood was completely devastated by time. But the shack stood, defiant, and Oikawa Tooru acted as its ruling king.

“Mind the second step,” Oikawa said as he skipped the said step. The fence on the porch was broken in four places.

The inside of the shack was in a slightly better condition; there was no furniture in the main room save for a single ancient-looking desk. There were two other rooms: one with no doors which Iwaizumi concluded was the bathroom once he’d spotted a sink, a patch of grass growing from the drain, and a broken mirror. The other room was behind a set of closed doors.

Oikawa set the box on the desk so Iwaizumi did the same.

“If you have to use the bathroom, feel free,” Oikawa said and pointed towards the room with no doors. “But be careful, that room is haunted.”

Iwaizumi knew better than to engage. “ _What_?”

“Yeah, one time while I was checking myself out in the mirror, I saw a woman standing behind me,” Oikawa said.

“You _can’t_ be serious.”

“Well, it turned out to be my angry aunt who found out I hadn’t come home for two days.”

Iwaizumi wanted to scream; he didn’t, that was the extent of his enviable self-restraint.

“ _But_ ,” Oikawa continued. “Another time, as I was doing the same, I really did see someone standing behind me. When I turned around, they were gone.”

While he was talking, Oikawa had busied himself with opening boxes so he couldn’t see Iwaizumi rolling his eyes. Iwaizumi’s hands were itching to do something as he hoped he wouldn’t be used as a dispensable load carrier. He stood next to Oikawa as he began assembling what looked like a telescope. Oikawa did it with practiced ease; as if he were playing with Legos.

“Isn’t that expensive? Do you carry it with you every day?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa tilted his head back, as if trying to point somewhere with his chin, but his eyes were fixed on the telescope. “ _That_ room.”

“Aren’t you worried somebody might steal it?”

“I have a key,” Oikawa said. “Plus, nobody comes here.”

Iwaizumi didn’t encourage the continuation of the conversation; he watched Oikawa do what he did well. The telescope came together in a matter of minutes; Oikawa’s deft fingers made the process of assembling seem like child’s play. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell most pieces apart let alone put them in the right place.

“Now to take this out,” Oikawa murmured, to himself more than Iwaizumi, as he took the telescope and went outside. When Iwaizumi realized he was taking it all the way to the clearing, he offered to help. They put the telescope down at the edge of the clearing where trees provided some shade. Iwaizumi sat on the grass and waited for Oikawa’s next move. Oikawa said, “Wait here.”

Oikawa went back to the shack and returned with three books and a sketchbook to which a pencil was attached. He sat down between the telescope and Iwaizumi and pushed three books into Iwaizumi’s lap – two astronomy books and one encyclopaedia. Iwaizumi flipped the pages of the encyclopaedia, photos of stars and galaxies unfolding before him one by one.

When he lifted his eyes with a question on his mind, Oikawa was already staring at him; the way he sat had his shorts rising up slightly, revealing toned thighs. Iwaizumi met Oikawa’s gaze a moment too late.

He cleared his throat and asked, “What now?”

“Now we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“The night, of course.”

 

The night took a while to arrive but once it did, it descended in one fell swoop and rought a curtain of stars with it. Stars like these didn’t exist in the big city. As he lay down, soft grass caressing his bare legs and arms, Iwaizumi felt infinitesimal.

When he was focused, Oikawa was of few words. His hand glided across the page and only stopped to consider where to draw another line. He pouted as he drew, or bit his lips until they were wet and bruised. There was a quiet beauty about him when that mouth of his didn’t move to speak rubbish. The intense gaze of his eyes burned bright in the dark. Iwaizumi was mesmerized by the contradictions weaved together to create one Oikawa Tooru.

“So, the night is here?” Iwaizumi said. He’d wanted to speak for a while now but he worried he might trip over Oikawa’s focus.

“Those are some mad observation skills.” He didn’t look at Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi ignored the jab. “Why are we here?”

Oikawa briefly pointed at the sky.

“The sky?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Aliens. We’re waiting for aliens.”

Iwaizumi propped himself up on his elbows. “First ghosts, now aliens.”

Oikawa looked at him this time. “It’s a wonderful world, isn’t it?”

“Why aliens?”

“Why not?”

“I’ve lost you again,” Iwaizumi said.

“You never found me.”

Infuriating his conversational partner must’ve been a skill Oikawa has spent years honing until he mastered it.  

Oikawa put the pencil down. “When I was a kid, my father said that when he proposed to my mother, on this very clearing, they saw aliens.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t win a fight against a fit of laughter. It _was_ funny, the more he thought about it.

“What’s funny?” Oikawa asked, his confusion genuine.

“Are you sure _you_ are not an alien?”

“I’m sure my parents would’ve told me.”

Iwaizumi’s laugh echoed through the empty clearing, wrapping around them like a shield. The night was warm, no breeze, and Iwaizumi’s head was dizzy with the encounter of Oikawa. He looked at him, and pitied him. And envied him. Oikawa knew nothing. Or he knew everything and chose to ignore it. Iwaizumi couldn’t tell.

He got up.

“Where are you going?” Oikawa asked.

“I don’t want to worry my grandparents,” Iwaizumi said as he checked his back for any remains of grass. It was getting late and he hadn’t been home since morning. All they’ve eaten were some rice crackers Oikawa had provided.

“Why would they be worried? They know you’re with me,” Oikawa said and offered a peace sign, his fingers smeared with pencil.

“ _Exactly_.”

“I’ll walk you home. No harm shall befall my valuable part-timer.”

“I barely did anything.”

Oikawa’s expression grew into one of genuine bewilderment. “That’s not true,” he said. “You kept me company.”

Iwaizumi thought about what Oikawa had said as he tossed and turned in bed that night.

 

**DAY THREE**

“Remind me again _why_ I’m here,” Iwaizumi said as he leaned in to whisper in Oikawa’s ear. Oikawa had his arms crossed, a devilish grin adorning his face as he looked at the playground.

“You’re helping me babysit.”

A dozen of children played volleyball on the small playground court. The trees here were thick and tall and kept the sun out of focused eyes. Despite it, Iwaizumi’s shirt was sweaty and stuck to his back. Heat seemed to have no effect on Oikawa who stood as impregnable as a fortress by all outside forces.

“ _Ha_! That serve wouldn’t work against my five-year-old nephew!” Oikawa directed his jibe at one of the boys, a setter with fearsome accuracy for his age.

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi said. “ _Who_ exactly am I babysitting here?”

“I didn’t know you were into that,” Oikawa said and winked at him. A cold chill ran down Iwaizumi’s spine. “You gotta _crush_ them while they’re young.” When he said that, he was glaring at that black-haired setter boy who seemed to grab his opponent by the throat and demand victory.

“How wicked _are_ you?”

“The right amount.”

Oikawa, for all attempts of his poisonous tongue to prove otherwise, coached those children with care, knowledge and patience of a professional. The children looked up at him, some even called him ‘ _The Grand King_ ’. Iwaizumi agreed there was something royal about Oikawa when he was like this; _a royal pain in the ass_.

Once children had ran out of batteries, they sat down for lunch. Oikawa had appeared on Iwaizumi’s doorstep at 7am sharp and yet he had still prepared enough sandwiches that every child could get two.

“Here, try one of my divine sandwiches,” Oikawa said and offered a sandwich to Iwaizumi.

“It’s the _only_ thing you _know_ how to make,” one of the taller boys teased, his small mouth pulled into a smirk, even as he was devouring his sandwich fast.

“Eat your sandwich quietly, Matsukawa,” Oikawa said, his nose proudly lifted.

Iwaizumi bit into his sandwich. It was above average in taste, Iwaizumi could give Oikawa that.

“Okay,” Oikawa said between bites. “Question time.”

Iwaizumi nodded, his mouth was full of sandwich.

“I’ve never seen you around. Why are you here now?”

Iwaizumi swallowed. “My parents are renovating our apartment in Tokyo. They’re staying at their friends’ house and I decided to stay here.”

“But you’ve been here before?”

“When I was a kid. A couple of times.”

“ _Hm_ ~”

“What about you? I don’t see many people our age around.”

“Most leave for high school in Tokyo. Or stay in the city to make connections. There are not many opportunities on this island.”

“But you’re still here,” Iwaizumi said. He’d seen Oikawa’s acknowledgments.

“I’m still here.”

“Why?”

“I like it here.” Oikawa turned to him and smiled with eyes closed. His eyes could give him away, Iwaizumi thought. “Plus, we have aliens.”

“Supposedly,” Iwaizumi said.

“Good enough.”

After lunch, children played volleyball with their strength and stamina renewed.

“Tooru,” one of the children called. “Why don’t you play with us?”

“I only play with those who can actually receive my tosses,” Oikawa said.

Some of the children pouted and the others clutched the ball in challenge.

“Then you won’t mind playing with me.”

A deep voice cut through air like an axe. Iwaizumi didn’t recognize it. He turned to its source.

A broad-shouldered boy approached them; his face hosted a deep-etched frown and predatory gaze. He stopped short of Oikawa, standing tall and intimidating. Oikawa tilted his chin up, his demeanor that of an animal on guard.

“Ushiwaka,” Oikawa said his name like it was poison on his lips. “I thought I got rid of you when you moved to Tokyo three years ago but you keep coming back.”

“Are you going to keep talking, or play?” Ushiwaka said.

Oikawa’s lip twitched.

Iwaizumi didn’t understand what was going on but there was a shift of mood in Oikawa that was provoked by Ushiwaka’s appearance. Something was between them – an axe never buried, Iwaizumi guessed.

“I’ll play too,” Iwaizumi stepped in.

Ushiwaka acknowledged his presence with a scrutinizing look that was all but flattering.  

“Sure,” Ushiwaka said.

“ _Can_ you play, Iwa-chan?”

“Toss to me and you’ll see.”

Two against one; Iwaizumi would’ve called it unfair if he hadn’t seen Ushiwaka prowl around the other side of the court as if he owned it. Iwaizumi was overcome with an irrational desire to score against him and he wanted Oikawa to give him a chance to.

Oikawa twirled the ball in his hands and pressed it to his forehead. Iwaizumi heard him inhale and then exhale. On the other side of the net, Ushiwaka’s shoes dug into the ground, ready to leap. Iwaizumi felt the rush, the swish of air when threw the ball and tossed it in Iwaizumi’s direction.

Iwaizumi followed the ball, felt the pull of his muscles when he leaped and struck the ball. Ushiwaka appeared before him, a brick wall, and stopped his spike. The ball hit the ground and everyone on the court fell silent.

“One more,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa nodded and tossed again. And again. And _again_.

Iwaizumi’s muscles pulsed with strain in the summer heat. Each stopped spike only served to fuel his desire to score, and brought him closer to Oikawa; he fell into his rhythm, felt his toss in the intimate way players who clicked did. Oikawa was good, _so_ good. He figured Iwaizumi out after three tosses and then kept giving him exactly what he wanted. He carried with him the same intensity he had when he was drawing, confirming that he was more than his vicious mouth.

“Perhaps Oikawa should toss to me,” Ushiwaka said.

“You can dream, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa said and twirled the ball again. “With this next toss, we will score.” His eyes met Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi never wanted anything so badly.

Iwaizumi closed his eyes the same time Oikawa did; he inhaled and, this time, searched for a _feeling_ rather than a moment. He felt it when Oikawa’s fingers touched the ball. He leapt and sought the ball. He spiked it with all his might.

The ball grazed Ushiwaka’s fingers and crashed into the ground behind him. Iwaizumi went still. It wasn’t much of a victory, not after all those losses, but it coursed through his veins like it mattered. When he looked at Oikawa and his silly peace sign, it was enough.

“You should’ve come with me off the island. We could’ve been great together,” Ushiwaka said. He was holding the ball in his hands.

“ _This_ again.” Oikawa rolled his eyes.

“Yes, this,” Ushiwaka said. “You’re clipping your own wings.”

“Don’t go all poetic on me. It never works.”

Ushiwaka pressed his lips together. His frown seemed to get deeper. “You’re right. It never works,” he said. “Which is why this is the last time I will come to you with this. We’re graduating high school this year and if you think coming to a university in Tokyo isn’t the best course of action for someone of your talent and intelligence… then I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Silence, at last!”

“Flaunt that pride of yours when you learn how to toss across the sea.”

“ _Watch m_ e.”

They exchanged gazes long enough to make Iwaizumi uncomfortable. Their spat was of personal nature but Iwaizumi entertained the idea of butting in.

He didn’t go through with it.

“Come, kids. I’m taking you home,” Oikawa said, at last. He turned to Iwaizumi and gave him a smile. Fake. “Iwa-chan, you’re free for today. Nice game.”

Oikawa rounded the children before Iwaizumi could protest and left the playground in silence.

With no other choice, Iwaizumi turned to leave.

“Hey, uh, Iwa—“ Ushiwaka said. He couldn’t say the nickname Oikawa coined for Iwaizumi.

“Iwaizumi.”

“I’m Ushijima,” Ushijima said. Why wasn’t Iwaizumi surprised that Ushiwaka was just a nickname? “Do you have some time?”

“Do you need some of my time?”

“Yes.”

Iwaizumi shrugged.

“Come.”

Ushijima led him to the same clearing Oikawa took him to yesterday. Nothing has changed; but it was empty of Oikawa.

“Why do I always end up here?” Iwaizumi muttered.

“Oikawa brought you here?”

“Yesterday,” Iwaizumi said. “He brought you here too?”

“No,” Ushijima said. “I followed him here once, though.”

“That certainly _isn’t_ violating some of his basic human rights.”

“I was worried.”

“Do you always make enemies of those you’re worried about?”

“What makes you think we’re enemies?”

“You almost tore each other’s throats open back there.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Ushijima’s lips. “We’re not enemies.”

Ushijima stopped in front of one of the huge rocks covered in greenery; Iwaizumi hadn’t paid much attention to those yesterday.

“Did he tell you about aliens?”

“Yes.”

Ushijima stepped into the shrubbery and touched the greenery crawling up the spine of the rock. Iwaizumi blinked at him, confused.

“Come here.”

Iwaizumi followed Ushijima’s steps. Gently, so as not to hurt the plant, Ushijima parted the greenery. What opened before them were images in pastels; images of alien spaceships and tiny, green aliens as if drawn by a loving hand. Iwaizumi noticed that these plants must’ve taken more than fifteen years to grow over this part of the rock in order to completely cover the images.

Iwaizumi’s throat was dry. He said, “Why are you showing this to me?”

“I can’t get through to him. Maybe someone else can.”

“He’s not a kid.”

“He’s not. He acts like one sometimes,” Ushijima said. “He’s afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Not being good enough.”

“He has a room full of trophies and acknowledgments that prove otherwise.”

“That’s because this island is small. Out there he—he may not be. He knows this. He’s afraid.”

Iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheeks. “I barely know him. Why would he listen to me?”

“He doesn’t have to listen to _you_ ,” Ushijima said. “He has to listen to a part of him that’s not afraid.”

Iwaizumi gave a weak laugh. “You really _do_ have a tendency to go all poetic, don’t you?”

“Did it work on you, at least?”

“We’ll see,” Iwaizumi said. “I’d still rather avoid meddling in his business.”

Iwaizumi sighed. Now he had another thing to worry about; and a feeling he could’ve lived without.

 

**DAY FOUR**

Iwaizumi didn’t go out of his way to avoid Oikawa. He needed time to think and perhaps some divine force showed him mercy and gave him that time. He spent the entire morning cleaning oysters with Aiko. She told him embarrassing stories about his father. Like the one when he fell into shallow water and thought he was going to drown even if the water reached to his knees when he stood up. Aiko’s smile, as she reminisced, eased some of the tension out of him.

Oikawa turned up late that afternoon, a smile bright and fresh on his face. He would’ve fooled Iwaizumi if he hadn’t noticed dark circles under his eyes.

“I was hoping for a day off,” Iwaizumi said.

“A day off?” Oikawa quirked an eyebrow.

“A day free of you.”

Oikawa spread his palm over his heart. “That wouldn’t be much of a vacation.”

Yesterday, Iwaizumi would’ve felt infuriated at Oikawa’s words. Now, he felt—he felt— _not_ infuriated.

“What godforsaken plan have you laid out for me today?”

Oikawa presented him the laptop he had folded under his arm. “A movie night under the stars.”

Iwaizumi found himself smiling. “Alright.”

Oikawa squinted at him. “You’re surprisingly agreeable today.”

“It’s easier to play along with you. It’s over faster.”

“ _Or_ ,” Oikawa circled around him as they walked towards the clearing. He perked up for real this time. “You see me in the new light now that you’ve had the privilege of receiving my tosses.”

“You’re an extraordinary setter,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa stopped walking. “You are _suspiciously_ agreeable today.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks felt hot at the realization of what he’d confessed. “Shut up and walk. _Shittykawa_.”

“ _Ah_ , he’s back!” They fell into step and Oikawa kept grinning the entire way. Being genuine did nice things to his face, softened his features.

“You’re a waste of a pretty face,” Iwaizumi murmured.

“ _Aw_ , you think I’m pretty?”

“You’re _also_ a selective listener.”

Oikawa winked at him. “I hear what is _behind_ what is said.”

“ _What_?”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Oikawa said. They walked among the trees in silence until they reached the clearing. “You’re an extraordinary spiker too.”

 

Oikawa pulled out a blanket from his secret, lock-protected storage and prostrated it in the middle of the clearing once the sky turned black and scattered with myriad of stars. They lied down, the laptop between them and Oikawa began shuffling through plethora of movies which, Iwaizumi bet, he’d already seen.

He opted for ‘ _Alien_ ’. Iwaizumi almost fell asleep twice but one look at Oikawa’s excited face was enough to keep him awake until the credits started rolling.

“Isn’t the Alien beautiful?” Oikawa asked. He pushed the laptop aside and laid with his hands on his chest.

“I assure you it would eat you before you could compliment it.”

“Worth it,” Oikawa said. “But don’t worry; I’d protect you and your buff arms.”

Iwaizumi laughed. “You’ve been flirting with me since day one.”

“Now it’s day four. I’m glad you’ve noticed,” Oikawa said.

“I noticed.”

“And what are you going to do about it, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa turned sideways to Iwaizumi, his head resting on his palm.

“What makes you think I _want_ to do something about it?” Iwaizumi was grinning; it was a confession in and of itself. He pushed all other thoughts aside and focused solely on Oikawa and the way he held himself as if he wasn’t afraid.

“ _Please_. Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at my shorts.” Oikawa tugged at his shorts and Iwaizumi’s eyes, naturally, followed the movement of Oikawa’s fingers as they played with the fabric.

“I—that was—those shorts are _not fair_.”

“They did their part,” Oikawa said and rolled over. Iwaizumi allowed himself to be pushed into the grass, all of Oikawa’s weight on him. “Now, kiss me.”

“You can bend down.”

“Do _I_ have to do all the work around he—“

Iwaizumi lifted himself up and caught Oikawa’s lips with his own. Oikawa didn’t hesitate to return the kiss; he pressed his chest to Iwaizumi’s as if he tried to knock the air out of him. And he did, when his tongue pushed past Iwaizumi’s lips. If the air around them had been hot, now it was sizzling.

Iwaizumi’s hands wrapped around Oikawa’s waist and sunk lower to grope his ass.  

Oikawa gasped with pleasure. The sweetest sound Iwaizumi had ever heard. He chuckled.

“What?”

“ _That_ sound was adorable,” Iwaizumi said. He was breathless at the sight of Oikawa holding himself above him.

“You better work hard to hear it again,” Oikawa said, and they were kissing once more.

Iwaizumi was surprised at how easy Oikawa was when it came to kissing. His tongue did wonderful things in Iwaizumi’s mouth when he wasn’t using it to craft the most infuriating of sentences. His fingers were light in Iwaizumi’s hair, pulling just enough to elicit a groan, _every time_. Iwaizumi felt like a trained animal and loved every second of it.

They kissed for a long time and came apart only when they were rendered completely breathless.

Iwaizumi held Oikawa’s face in his hands. He wished he could see the colour of Oikawa’s eyes and those lovely lips of his but the pale light of the moon only allowed for so much. Oikawa turned his head and kissed Iwaizumi’s palm.

“You are so— _so_ beautiful and smart and daring and still _afraid_ ,” Iwaizumi said as he stroked Oikawa’s cheek.

Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “What am I afraid of?”

“Leaving this island. Pursuing your dreams.”

“What makes you think I’m not already pursuing my dream?”

“Because you—”

“Is this _Ushiwaka_ speaking?”

“Oikawa—”

“You have _no_ right to say any of this.”

“ _Somebody_ has to. It’s not like you’re listening anyway.”

Don’t meddle.

You’ll ruin it.

_Don’t meddle._

Oikawa pushed himself off Iwaizumi and onto his feet. Iwaizumi followed suit.

“This whole alien thing is just bullshit—an _excuse_ to stay in one place—and you know it,” Iwaizumi said. He didn’t want it to, but his voice kept getting louder. “If you get out there and try to strive for something bigger, you might fail. And that _scares_ you, doesn’t it? It’s easier to stay ‘ _genius Oikawa Tooru of the island’_.”

Iwaizumi was furious for reasons unbeknown. A pang of guilt struck his chest when he saw Oikawa’s eyes widen in bewilderment. His mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Words kept pouring out of him. “You keep your achievements as armour rather than a weapon.” Iwaizumi sounded like Ushijima. He didn’t understand Oikawa Tooru four days ago but he had gathered puzzle pieces that formed a picture of him that he didn’t want anyone to see. But the picture showed and there was a lot still missing.

“You’re a coward, Oikawa Tooru.”

Oikawa scrunched his nose. “ _Fuck off_.”

With that, he stormed off.

 

**DAY FIVE**

Nothing.

No Oikawa.

Aiko noticed something was off.

She didn’t ask.

Iwaizumi cleaned oysters.

He didn’t laugh when Isamu barfed while he was watching TV.

He thought of Oikawa.

 _All_ of Oikawa. His lips. His smile, when it was genuine. His proficiency on the court. The pedestal island children put him on. The crown he was desperate to keep. The awards he kept on display and looked at every night before he fell asleep. Encyclopaedias he knew by heart. Stars he watched and drew with naïve passion.

Iwaizumi thought about Oikawa a lot that day.

He went to bed early.

His mind didn’t let him sleep.

 

**DAY SIX**

“C’mon, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi banged on the doors. He’d been banging for five minutes. He knew Oikawa was inside because he saw his shoes through the window.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I don’t want _that_ to be our last conversation.”

He banged again. None of the neighbours came out to see what’s happening but they must’ve heard the commotion.

“Oikawa, if you don’t open this door, I’ll loudly demonstrate that _sound_ you made when I squeezed your ass—“

The doors flung open to a scowling Oikawa.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Oikawa warned. He didn’t look the least bit threatening in neon green shorts and a worn black t-shirt.

Iwaizumi didn’t waste time. “Come with me.”

“Why would I—”

“I will throw you over my shoulder if I have to.” He didn’t sound half as intimidating as he’d planned to. Seeing Oikawa, as angry as he was, healed a part of him that was hurt yesterday. Oikawa opened the doors, that had to count.

Oikawa crossed his arms and pouted, his frown fading.

He put his shoes on and quietly followed after Iwaizumi.

 

At the clearing, Oikawa halted his step when he realized Iwaizumi was leading him to a specific rock covered with greenery. He bit his lip and stopped moving altogether. Iwaizumi should’ve known.

Iwaizumi came back for him, took his hand in his and pulled him along. His palm soothed the skin on the back of Oikawa’s hand and he felt Oikawa relax.

They pushed past shrubbery and stood in the shade of the rock. Iwaizumi closed his eyes, called upon his determination and tore the shrubbery with his free hand until aliens and spaceships came into view.

He looked at Oikawa and saw that his face was wearing the expression of a boy who finally _saw_ for the first time.

“Did you know that what you’ve been looking for was here the whole time?”

“I knew,” Oikawa said. His voice was a whisper; he sounded as defeated as he looked. “Of course I knew.”

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi said. “I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that yesterday. It was not my place to say any of those things.”

Oikawa squeezed his hand. “You only spoke the truth,” Oikawa said. “I was aware of it, always. You can’t _not_ notice when you’re running away. All this time I was on a treadmill, growing more tired but getting nowhere.”

“So poetic,” Iwaizumi teased.

“Ushiwaka and his metaphors are rubbing off on all of us. Curse him,” he said and chuckled. “You know, I spent the whole Saturday thinking about what I really want and how much it scares me.”

“What did you conclude?”

“That the word ‘scary’ doesn’t even _begin_ to cover half of it.”

“If you want me to pamper you or comfort you, forget about it. Fear is a part of this whole growing up thing.”

“I know.”

“Besides, they have huge telescopes in Tokyo. Just imagine stalking the space for aliens with one of those.”

Iwaizumi sat down in the grass and pulled Oikawa with him. He didn’t let go of Oikawa’s hand.

“That _does_ sound tempting,” Oikawa said and snuggled closer. “What about you? What do you want to do?”

“I’m thinking policeman.”

“Oh? Fighting the crime with those buff arms of yours,” Oikawa said.

“First thing I’m going to do when I get the job is arrest you.”

“On what grounds?”

“These shorts. _Illegal_.”

Oikawa laughed. Another sound he made that Iwaizumi thought was _just_ the right amount of sweet.

 

**DAY SEVEN**

Aiko packed him with more food than he could eat during a single flight and Isamu packed him with more wisdom he could use in a lifetime. They walked him out of the house smiling. He waved at them and felt guilty for all those years he hadn’t come to visit them.

The plane was to take off in fifteen minutes.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were standing at the airport station.

Oikawa looked as if Iwaizumi had already left him.

No words came to him.

Iwaizumi put his bags down and climbed on one of the empty benches.

Oikawa’s warm eyes widened as Iwaizumi turned his back to him.

“Iwa-chan, what are you—?”

“ _Raincheck_.”

He didn’t wait for Oikawa to process the word. He spread his arms and let himself fall.

Halfway down, he was struck by cold fear at the thought of Oikawa not catching him. His brains would end up scattered on the airport floor and that would be the lamest end Iwaizumi Hajime could’ve gotten.

A second later, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his torso and held him in place. Oikawa whimpered and they tumbled to the ground. A moment of silence passed between them before Iwaizumi burst into laughter.

“So, I had a good hunch. You _suck_ at this,” Iwaizumi said. Oikawa’s arms were still holding him so improbably close that Iwaizumi worried he might’ve been crushed.

“You have too much muscle,” Oikawa said. His voice was muffled because his mouth was pressed to Iwaizumi’s shoulder blade. He felt Oikawa’s mouth move over the fabric of his shirt.

“I thought you liked my muscles.”

“I _do_ like them.”

Oikawa’s squeezed Iwaizumi harder as he rubbed his face into his shirt.

“Don’t wipe your tears and snot on my shirt,” Iwaizumi said, gently. _Fondly_. The sound of Oikawa’s soft, badly-suppressed whimpers dug a hole in his chest.

“I’m going to fight on a bigger stage. I was not made for small ones,” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi closed his palm around Oikawa’s hand.

“I’ll be waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story was meant to be finished back in July when I first thought of it but here I am finishing it in November. But I figured Oikawa and shorts and aliens and shameless flirting were timeless. Feedback is precious!


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